Fourteen
years ago this February I braved the early-morning New Hampshire
chill to stand outside a firehouse with two dozen other reporters
and camerapeople, waiting for Bill Clinton to arrive. I wasn’t
yet aware that that morning, the Wall Street Journal
had broken the story of how Clinton had avoided military service
during the Vietnam War. But of course others there knew, and
as soon as Clinton stepped out of his limo, someone shoved
a mic in his face and asked, “Governor, are you a draft dodger?”

What the presidential candidate from Arkansas did next left
a lasting impression on me. He could have allowed his handlers
to close in around him and whisk him into the firehouse, as
they clearly wanted to do. But instead, he stopped dead and
let the media people close in around him. “Let me explain
to you what happened,” he began.

At that time, I wasn’t a big Bill Clinton fan. I recall reading
an editorial in The Nation, titled “Clinton Already?”
in which the leftist magazine bemoaned the fact that he seemed
already to have been anointed by a critical mass of mainsteam
pundits as the Democratic candidate with an inside track to
the nomination. I agreed with The Nation that there
must be a better candidate to take on George H.W. Bush—perhaps
the old-school liberal senator from Iowa, Tom Harkin, or the
more eccentric progressive from California, Jerry Brown. To
us, Clinton already was tainted by his association with the
Democratic Leadership Council, a group with close ties to
big business and an agenda that stressed political centrism
and independence from “special interest groups” like organized
labor and women’s- and minority-rights advocates. The way
to win back the White House, the DLC argued, was to ignore
the left wing of the Democratic Party (yet count on collecting
their votes anyway) and compete openly for Middle America,
the Reagan Democrats, the soccer moms and Nascar dads.

As I watched Clinton patiently address reporters’ questions
that morning, it was, for me, the beginning of a fascination
with and respect for the man that continues to this day, although
I did not always agree with his policies and actions as president.
His attempt to reform health care was a dismal failure. I
thought his “welfare reform” was misguided and unjust. He
bombed Iraq. In light of these and other presidential actions
that had serious, sometimes very negative consequences, the
other matter for which he became infamous seems utterly trivial.
Besides, in many ways he was an excellent president. He understood
government and its importance, and ran it competently. He
put the country on sound financial footing, running a budget
surplus for the first time in memory. He advocated for diversity
and tolerance and set an example in his own staff and appointments.
And in his combination of charm, brilliance and diplomacy,
underscored by his often riveting public speeches, he represented
the United States well to the rest of the world.

Again, he wasn’t a perfect president. Still, for me, one thing
about him stood out and set him apart from most elected officials
I have observed over the years: He talked to us. He listened
to tough questions and answered them, often backed up by a
remarkable store of knowledge on the subject. He wasn’t always
scripted. Presidents all have to control their public appearances
to some degree, but Clinton by comparison seemed available,
welcoming, not confined to speeches in front of handpicked
supportive audiences. And occasionally his ability to take
the heat shone through in remarkable ways.

The morning at the firehouse was minor compared to an incident
that happened near the end of his second term, on election
day 2000, when he was calling up radio stations in New York
to help shore up support for Al Gore’s presidental run and
his wife Hillary’s campaign for the New York State Senate.
And when he dialed up WBAI in New York City, he suddenly found
himself on the phone with left-wing firebrand and Democracy
Now! host Amy Goodman. Goodman, along with colleague Gonzalo
Aburto, began peppering the president with questions about
his policies and about the discouraging similarities between
the two major parties. And it was one of the most amazing
half-hours of radio theater you’re ever likely to hear. Goodman
and Aburto fired hard questions at Clinton the likes of which
you seldom hear from the Washington press corps, and Clinton
responded with candid, fact-based, often brilliant answers,
only once or twice dodging qestions he didn’t want to deal
with. They attacked him from their progressive flank; he stood
his ground and proved he could speak with feeling to people
and issues on the left without alienating his moderate base.
Try to find a Democrat willing to do that these days.

I now have a bookend to my New Hampshire morning with Clinton
in 1992: He was the keynote speaker last month at the annual
convention of the Association of Alternative Newsweeklies,
which was held this year in Little Rock, Ark., where Clinton
once presided as governor and now has inaugurated his presidential
library. It was a long and typically impressive speech in
which he covered many topics relating to the challenges facing
the world and what we might do about them. He spoke of his
new role as a sort of ambassador to the world, and of his
travels with another ex-president, George H.W. Bush. In fact,
he said one particularly gracious thing to this audience of
Bush bashers. While he had plenty negative to say about the
current administration’s policies, he refused to take the
bait to personally attack the president: In spite of the fact
that he disagrees with him philosophically, Clinton said,
he believes that George W. Bush sincerely believes in what
he is doing. Besides, he added, “I have a lot of respect for
his father.”

One other thing Clinton said made me wish he somehow had more
influence in this increasingly violent, us-vs.-them era. In
reflecting on how we might better approach the problem of
sharing the world with people of different races, religions
and political opinions, he offered this: “Our differences
do matter. They make life interesting, and they aid in the
search for the truth. But since no one has the whole truth,
our common humanity matters more.”

When his speech was over and the three prearranged questions
were answered, Clinton’s handlers motioned for him to leave.
But he was having fun, and he wanted to stay longer. To our
surprise (we had been told no way), he took questions from
the audience. He shook hands and signed books. He frustrated
his handlers and the wait staff who were supposed to be serving
lunch. But he thrilled his audience. He’s still a politician.
And still a great one.